


It will not last the night

by Trojie



Series: Trojie's Pornathon Entries 2013 [6]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Breathplay, Comeplay, Community: summerpornathon, Infidelity, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 03:09:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is burning his candle at both ends, trying to fend off the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It will not last the night

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Round Six of the Merlin Summerpornathon (Light and Dark). Rough sex, breathplay, comeplay, angst, infidelity. [Title from 'First Fig' by Edna St Vincent Millay](http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/first-fig/)

The problem is that Merlin has always been a creature of the shadows. He knows he should make a choice, instead of dancing on this knife-edge, but it's in his nature. He needs them both, the light and the dark. 

Arthur is where he goes in the dead of night - his secret, a married man, his master, the _king_ \- and Merlin creeps to his bed and is welcomed there in silence, desire burning them both, Arthur rough in his desperation and Merlin ravenous for any sliver of skin, the bitter private taste of Arthur's seed that was never meant to be wasted on him, the thick scent of them together. 

Arthur splits him open with his fingers, keeps his other hand clamped tight over Merlin's mouth because he cannot risk noise, and Merlin pants and writhes with every motion Arthur makes, touching him deep inside where pleasure lurks, sparking like fireflies and catching like a candle's flame until Merlin is afire with it. Arthur thrusts four fingers into Merlin and it burns, he burns, fire and sunlight, wanting this more than anything.

Arthur penetrates Merlin with the curtains of his bed drawn against the candlelight outside, and Merlin's breath coming in wet gulps against the palm of his hand, and he isn't gentle, he takes this as if it were his right (it is, Merlin has always been his to take and own and use, in law and in Merlin's heart). The blunt, wet head of Arthur's cock bumps against the tender skin where he's pushed his fingers in and out until Merlin is stretched and chafed and raw and ready, and then he humps forward and catches against Merlin's hole, and starts inwards.

Arthur keeps pushing and Merlin whines, stifled, and tries to screw himself back, to take this faster, but Arthur holds him hard at the hip and the jaw and will not be rushed. He takes his pleasure how he prefers it and how he knows Merlin needs it, deep down, all slow and hard and inexorable like Fate. 

Merlin's climax comes to him blinding sudden and bright fire white. Arthur spends not a moment later, while Merlin is still shuddering through the sensation and it multiplies, heat-wet-fullness, completion, falling and burning, like flying too close to the sun. 

Merlin cleans them up and accepts Arthur's soft kiss to his temple but he is already feeling guilt for this, for succumbing to the darkness of this love that consumes him. 

By contrast, Mordred comes to Merlin in the mornings, when white-pink dawn light is slipping through the shutters, and he is sweet and Merlin lets him in under the coverlet and makes noises for him when he runs his sword-calloused fingers over Merlin's skin, and there's no feeling to it at all except maybe that which Mordred might harbour, deep inside his blackened soul. 

Mordred fucks Merlin face to face in the mornings, smiles at him and listens and does what Merlin begs him for - faster or slower, harder or softer, and Merlin will suck on Mordred's fingers and touch himself until he comes sticky wet on his own belly. Mordred scoops it up and feeds it back to Merlin and comes to the feel of Merlin's tongue curling gentle against his palm, like a kiss, with a smile and their golden eyes mirroring each other, kindred.

Merlin wishes he could love Mordred. He wishes he could trust him, even. But he can't. This light in Mordred surely won't last. Merlin is only trying to eke it out as long as he can, bind Mordred to him this way and put off the bloody future he's seen, pit light against dark and hope he can wrestle victory out of it. Because it is wrong to love Arthur, though it is legal to serve him in the bedchambers if he wants it. It is wrong to have Mordred like a lover despite not loving him. Somewhere in the middle of all the dark means, though, Merlin hopes he can find enough good ends to make it worth it, and if he has to live in the shadows all his life, he will do so gladly.


End file.
